


Winter Winds

by Valsnotebook



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, I will fix the tags as I go, Slow Build, Slow Burn, angsty rom-com, mentions of Shae, mentions of alchoolism, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valsnotebook/pseuds/Valsnotebook
Summary: When Sansa moves into her new apartment, she quickly finds out how thin the wall she shares with her neighbor is and it's not long before she starts to hate the guy.Running from her past she was hoping to finally find some peace and start again, but she eventually discovers it's not going to be that easy.Inspired by the movie "Un peu, beaucoup, aveuglément!", but with some darker twists.
Relationships: Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 54
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter I

When she heard loud moans from what was obviously a porn video, she decided enough was enough. Sansa knocked for the first time on the wall she knew she shared with someone who apparently had been raised in a cave.

“Hey! Could you turn it down?”

Receiving no response, she sighed: she had held on for a week, not giving in the temptation of complaining about the constant noise that was coming from the adjacent apartment, because she knew she would have come off as an uptight girl that didn’t know how to have fun. And as she had just moved in what she hoped would be her home for at least a few years, she had originally decided not to let her neighbors label her right at the beginning.

So she endured the music, the drilling at 7 am, the dishwasher at 1 am, the clattering, and any kind of noise that can be considered annoying. In return, she had acted like the perfect neighbor, hoping that would show the man how civilized people lived.

But, as already said, enough was enough.

The third time she knocked, the audio stopped.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

She had heard his voice a few times before, but never so clearly: he must have been standing right next to the wall like she was. It was a deep voice, a voice that she might have liked if it wasn’t so obviously amused by the situation.

“Yes, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to lower the volume of you laptop.”

“Wow, so well spoken, aren’t we? Well why, is that bothering you?”  
“Yes, actually. I have a friend coming over in a few minutes.”

“And we wouldn’t want to shock her”

“Exactly”

“Very well then, as you wish milady”

“Thank you.”

“Just one question though, will I spend the rest of the night hearing about her brother’s love life?”

At that, Sansa held her breath: one thing was to be intentionally annoying, another was to pay attention to your neighbor’s conversations enough to remember the details.

“What?”

“What? Isn’t that what you’re interested in? You’re not very subtle, I must tell you.”

Panic began to rise in her chest; she knew the wall was paper thin, much thinner than what she had ever heard, but the realization that he could hear her just as much as she could hear him dawned on her altogether for the first time.

“Did someone tell you to listen to me?” She knew it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear, but she was still processing what that meant.

“What?”

“Did someone ask you to listen to me?!” She screamed, frustrated with the situation.

“Woah, no. It was just hard not to, with you basically shouting at your phone everyday.”  
“I don’t _shout_.”

“But you do speak very loudly.”  
“I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

She sighed; he was just being an asshole, nothing worse.

“Just… whatever, don’t talk to me ever again and I promise I’ll try to lower my voice, okay?”

“Okay, okay, and uhm… my lady?”

“What.”  
“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

She didn’t answer, but simply walked away, knowing he could hear her doing so.

When Margaery came over, she found an excuse to sit with her at the table in the kitchen area rather than the sofa that was right at the cursed wall.

* * *

Besides the original anxiety caused by the sense of lack of privacy, that short… conversation with the man had actually improved the situation. She could still hear everything he did, as that was no one’s fault other that of whoever was responsible for that wall, but the loud noises in the middle of the night had stopped. In return, she had been checking her tone whenever speaking at the phone, always on the other end of the studio apartment. She realized, now, she might have been slightly annoying as well: it wasn’t just the phone, she noticed she left the television on even when she wasn’t watching it and sometimes she would blow-dry her hair late at night. She didn’t like the fact she wasn’t free to do as she pleased in her own house, but then she figured, he probably didn’t either. And if he was making an effort, she could try as well.

A month passed and the incessant rain on a cold Friday night gave her the perfect excuse to stay in and indulge in some guilty pleasures. Besides, he (who still didn’t have a name) probably wasn’t home. He never was on Fridays, she could often hear him come home later than her, probably drunk considering the way he’d stumble into everything, and cursed every time.

So she turned on the TV and put on the latest episode of Big Brother: she’d never admit it to anyone, but she ate all of the trashy reality shows up and not even ironically.

Of course she could see how stupid and scripted and badly acted they were, and yet she truly enjoyed those alternate realities, where everything was loud and exaggerated. Halfway through the episode she was completely invested in what the blonde girl was saying in the confessional, when a raw voice right behind startled her.

“Oh my god, do you think he cheated on her?”

She screamed and jumped on her feet. The voice was so near, it had felt like he was right there sitting next to her.

“I know, I know, no more eavesdropping, but look it’s not my fault, and you know it.”

“You could go somewhere else rather than staying literally a foot away from me.”  
“But that’s where my bed is!”

“Oh”

“Yeah, so you see, I had decided to go to bed early tonight and contemplate the futility of life, but all I can contemplate is Clarissa’s mental breakdown over a text.”

“Well, you could always move your bed.”  
“You’re right! I should definitely rearrange my whole apartment just because you moved in.”  
“It’s not like the wall wasn’t thin before I moved in!”

“But no one had stayed more than a fortnight before running away.”

“Ah! So you _were_ doing it on purpose.”  
“Well, you can thank me. That’s why your rent is so low now.”

“Oh my, maybe I really should be thanking you, my lord.”  
“My lord?”  
“You did call me my lady, and I don’t know your name.”

Sansa heard a laugh, and couldn’t help but calm down; there was something about his voice, something that made her want to listen to it more. She didn’t want to admit it though, so she just lowered her TV’s volume a little, and in no time she heard a soft snoring from the other side.

The third time they spoke was two months later, on Christmas Eve: she had hoped up until last minute that he would leave so she could spend the holiday in peace by herself, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

“I say we have a drink”

It was just after 9 pm, and Sansa was looking through Netflix catalogue trying to ignore the knot in her stomach whenever a Christmas movie would pop up.

“I don’t drink.” She answered, sitting comfortably on the couch and covering herself with two blankets.

“You don’t… wait, how old are you again?”

“24. I only drink on occasions”

“and Christmas isn’t occasion enough for you?”

“I don’t have anything in the house...”

“Ah, that’s a shame, it means I’ll have to drink for you too then.”

“I’m sure that’ll be so hard on you”

“Well, you know me” he said, as he walked away, probably getting his drink.

And to be honest, it was like she was starting to get to know him. She knew what music he listened to, what movies he liked, his work schedule, his opinions on various topics (okay, so she also could hear his phone calls, sue her: it’s not like she did it on purpose). She knew he was often bitter about everything, and that was one of the reasons why she was sure he was much older than her and probably had a boring office job. It was like having an invisible roommate.

“So, what movie are we watching tonight?” He asked as he returned.

“I don’t know, I was in the mood for a rom-com, but they all seem to be about Christmas.”  
“Not a fan?”

“It’s just… hard.”

There was a short moment of silence in which she prayed he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate.

“That makes two of us” His tone was light as he drank a sip, and she was glad that was all he was going to say about it. Desperate for some company, though, she decided she wasn’t going to let the conversation end so soon.

“What do you say we watch the stupidest movie possible and make fun of it?”

“I think that’s the most millennial thing I’ve heard you say.”  
“Are you in or not?”

And so they watched a Noah Centineo movie - _“I mean, he’s not even the main character”_ \- with Sansa describing what was happening and the man commenting or laughing or loudly cringing at the plot. She could hear him refilling his drink from time to time, hear his voice was growing deeper and his words getting a bit more slurred, but she didn’t mind.

By the end she was feeling so comfortable she had almost forgotten he wasn’t on the couch next to her: which was convenient, as she could be in her pajamas in the safety of her own house whilst still in his company.

“The app wasn’t even called swiped!”  
“Exactly”

“Well, after this incredible masterpiece, I’m afraid I will try to get some sleep now. I have to wake up early tomorrow, lucky me.”

_Oh, so he_ _does have_ _Christmas plans_.

“I’m sorry I kept you up...”

“No, no, please. I should actually thank you, I haven’t had a good laugh in a while.”

“You sure?”  
“Of course”

“Okay, I guess that’s good night then.”

“Good night, my lady.”

“Night, my lord.”


	2. Chapter II

On Christmas day, Sansa tried to sleep in as long as possible. Her shift at the cafe would start at 4 pm and she'd be left to herself the entire day before that.

Staying by herself on Christmas meant she had all the time to reminisce about her past: the worst part about it was that her memories of happy Christmases were so few and far, that she wouldn’t even long for something she had, but fantasize about the could-have-beens instead. It was still the better option, considering that the other one was to think about the Christmases she _had_ lived through.

So she tried to sleep as much as possible, hoping it would spare at least a few hours of that dreaded day. She finally got up at 11.30 and took her time to have the longest breakfast, trying not to reach for her phone. She brought her coffee to her couch and listened carefully to whatever noise could come from the other apartment, hoping that for some reason the man had stayed in as well.

Dead silence.

She realized she had grown accustomed to the comfort of having someone always next to her: was she really that lonely?

She checked her phone and found two unread messages: one from Margaery wishing her a merry Christmas and reminding her “You can always come over if you want, you know my grandma loves you”.

The other was from an unknown number:

_Sansa,_

_I know you blocked us everywhere, but this is my new number in case you need something._

_I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but Bran insists I write to you so here I go; we’re all ok._

_Merry Christmas, wherever you are._

_Jon_

Turns out the crying part of the day didn’t need much deep thinking after all.

That night she called an Uber to get home from her workplace, even though it was only a ten minutes walk. She asked the woman driving if she could wait for her to get into the apartment complex before driving away.

Her brother’s text had reminded her why she was in this situation in the first place, why she couldn’t let her guard down. It had been only a few months since she had run away from her ex, and she still wasn’t sure he had moved on. She knew he didn’t like people escaping his hold, no matter how little he actually cared about them.

She had tried to stay on the low, both on social media and in her personal life: she hoped if she waited long enough she would finally be able to go back to what was left of her family, and maybe spend next Christmas with them. So she had dyed her hair, moved to a different part of the city and cut off most of her old friendships (not that she had that many).

Once she was finally home, she grabbed a bag of potato chips and crashed on her couch, happy that the day was almost over. Seven minutes into what looked like the worst movie ever made, she noticed the guy behind the wall was home as well: she paused and listened to him: he was drinking and he was angry with the world. She knew by the sound of his glass slammed on the table and the way he mumbled to himself, a few curse words clearly recognizable when he'd raise his voice. She had imagined he dreaded Christmas almost as much as she did, but to get home more pissed off than when leaving? Something had probably happened.

_It’s none of your business_ she reprimanded herself, but still, she felt bad for him: if he had been home to hear her cry he would have probably said something, right? Or maybe not, because that’s not how privacy works and privacy was what she had asked in the first place.

Would she have wanted him to? A stranger? They didn’t even know each others’ names.

She could try to talk first this time. The worst it could happen was him throwing his glass at her, but there was a wall between them. He didn’t even know what she looked like, and their apartments weren’t in the same building but in two separate ones right next to each other.

And he knew she could hear him, so she might as well acknowledge it.

“Hey” she called and he stopped his rambling and his step.

“Hello, my lady” he said, and he sounded half drunk already. “How can I help you?”

Suddenly, the idea of asking him about his private matters seemed ten times more stupid than before.

“Uhm… I was about to watch another teen movie, do you want to join me?”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m not in my sharpest form tonight. I wouldn’t want to ruin your evening”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, and there’s nothing to ruin anyway.”

“Okay then, let me grab my laptop. What are we watching?”

“It’s called Tall Girl. Apparently, being a tall female is the latest struggle that needs representation.”

“You’re telling me this movies is about tall girls’ problems?”

“Looks like it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His laugh caught her by surprise: there was still something bitter about it, but at least she had managed to distract him.

“Hey! I’ll let you know, I am a tall girl myself.”

"Oh boo hoo.”

"Stop it!"

"I'm sorry, I'm just a short guy instead"

“See, then you understand the struggle of not meeting social expectations physically. Same struggle”

“Yeah, just the same.”

With that, they watched the movie and agreed it was even worse than the one they had seen the night before. By the time it was over, though, Sansa had grown to like the man’s voice so much she didn’t want to stop listening to it. She also was afraid they’d never get the chance to ‘hang out’ like that again: there was no conventional protocol for their relationship, did he even enjoy their time together as much as she did?

“Well, are you feeling better now, my lord?”

“Much, thank you. How was your Christmas?”

“Not that worse than expected.”

“Oh, so yours sucked as well.”

“Definitely.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Did she? She reminded herself why she had cried that morning, why even Margaery knew nothing about her situation, and why she had to be wary of strangers. But was that man a stranger? Considering his age (that she couldn’t really pinpoint yet), the life he led (mostly at home except for when he went to work) and his character, he didn’t seem the kind of person that would associate with her ex. At the same time, there were a lot of things she didn’t know about him. She really didn’t want to believe he was there to fool her, but she couldn’t just trust him blindly.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really know you...”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry I asked”

“Don’t be, I just... can't trust strangers at the moment. Maybe a couple of movies from now?”

“I get it, don't worry. And yeah, I’d like that.”


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me this long to update.  
> I should be able to write in the next few weeks and the story is already planned, but still... I'm very sorry.  
> I had exams all through January and February, and lockdown started at the beginning of March and I felt very anxious and nervous for most of it. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for the feedback on this story, I hope you're still interested in reading it! I'll try not to abandon it again, I swear.
> 
> There's a bit more angst in this chapter, I hope you'll like it.  
> Stay safe everyone <3

Despite the vague promise of hanging out again, Sansa could not find it in her to have the courage to initiate communication again. She didn’t hear him going to work the days after Christmas, while she had picked up a few extra shift at the coffeehouse where she worked.

The days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve were always the busiest of the year and she enjoyed keeping herself occupied enough to not have the time or the energy to be alone with her thoughts.

The downside was that when she got home, she was usually too tired to even make dinner, let alone entertain her neighbor. Besides, most of the times she couldn’t even hear what he was doing and she could only guess, based on the lack of noise, what he _wasn’t_ doing anymore: going to work, talking to what she was almost sure was his brother and possibly drinking.

The only sound that came out of that apartment was the soft snore she would sometimes hear if she stayed up long enough.

Eventually, Margaery had managed to convince her to spend New Year’s Eve at her house, promising it was only a small party of trusted friends. She lived in the area, close enough that it wouldn’t have been absurd to walk home once the party was over: her plan was to call Uber anyway, but she liked to have the choice to not end up stranded there overnight.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, a part of her was genuinely excited at the idea of having fun. She still worried it was not the smartest choice, but she knew if she didn’t go Margaery was going to start asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer yet, and she couldn’t afford to lose her friendship. She figured a house party was the safest choice anyway, so if she was going to indulge into being a normal 24 year old it might as well be that night.

With not much else to do, she took her time to get dressed and do her make up. Like the days before, she was tempted to check in on the man on the other side, but she had no idea how to do that in a way that didn’t look too forced.

When Uber notified her that her ride was a couple of minutes away, she put on her shoes and made her way to the couch to grab her bag.

“Have fun, Lady.” the man said, the words so unexpected she literally jumped: there was no bitterness in his tone, not even a hint of sarcasm. His voice was warm and deep, like always, and the only thing she could detach was maybe a bit of sadness. But who was she to judge his mood on merely three spoken words?

“Thanks… you too?”

He chuckled and didn’t answer.

“Is everything alright?” She couldn’t help but ask, knowing she was going to think about him a lot if she left things there.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. It’s just, I was afraid you were going to spend tonight by yourself and I’m glad you’re not.”

The idea that he had been paying attention to her even a little made her feel flustered.

“I… yes, I’m going at a friend’s. Nothing crazy.”

“Mh, wise choice.”

“Are you going out?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Not this year, I’ll catch the next one”

“Oh, okay.” Her phone ringed, her ride was waiting for her.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Happy new year”

“Happy new year.”

“And don’t drink too much.” she added as she got out of her apartment and closed her door before she could take it back. That was certainly _not_ the way to make someone want to talk to you.

Margaery hugged her like they hadn’t seen each other in years and Sansa let herself be lulled a little.

“I’ve got something for you.”

“Sansa, I told you, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, and last time I actually believed you and you got me a present anyway. So here.”

As it turned out, both of them had bought a scarf for the other.

“Okay, this is a sign from the universe that we _have_ to go out before the winter ends.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood, Sansa vaguely agreed while looking around at other people in the living room. Most of them were known faces: close friends of Margaery that Sansa had already met in the past and a couple of girls who had attended university with them with their respective boyfriends. One of them also looked familiar, but she couldn’t really place him. Before she could take a closer look at him, Margaery placed a drink in her hand and dragged her to the other side of the room, re-introducing her to her childhood friends.

A couple of drinks into the night, she overcame her initial reluctance and started to catch up with the others: apparently everyone remembered she used to have red hair and wanted to know what she’d been up to. She didn’t expect the small talk to be about something else, but she had hoped no one would actually pay too much attention to her.

“I’m working as a barista now”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to write?”

“Yes, well, still figuring things out, you know.”

They were polite enough not to ask any more personal questions and the conversation quickly moved to another topic.

Around 11 pm she excused herself from the small group with the intention of getting back to Margery, wherever she was.

She found her with Kate and Alyssa, the girls they used to hang out with back in college, and the boyfriends.

“Sansa, there you are!” Kate said, quickly hugging her. Beside her there was the boyfriend she was sure she had already met.

“Sansa?” He asked and she extended her hand to greet him.

“I’m Paul. I couldn’t recognize you with the black hair, but it’s really you!”

Her smile immediately dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re Ramsay’s ex, right? You don’t remember me?”

She froze. _This is it._ She had almost never hung out with Ramsay’s friends, but she had met them in a few occasions and the name Paul did ring a bell.

“I mean, you completely went off the radar at some point. He looked for you everywhere.”

_Is he_ _making conversation_ _or is he threatening me?_

She tried not to show how hard it had suddenly become to breathe.

The silence held on, but she could only stare at Paul, trying to decipher the severity of the danger she was in. He didn’t look pissed: she knew Ramsay didn’t show his true colors to most of the people, maybe Paul had no idea of who he was friends with.

 _Or maybe he’s just as crazy_.

“Don’t tell him I was here.” She conveyed eventually, not without a great effort on not letting her voice tremble.

“What?”

“Please.”

She glanced at Margaery, hoping she could understand.

_How can she? You refused to tell her anything._

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“What? Come on, you can’t leave _now_.”

“Mer, just… I’ll text you when I’ll get home, okay? Just, I have to.”

“Call a ride, I’ll wait with you outside.”

As she pulled out her phone, her friend grabbed her bag and both of their coats.

Once they were out, she was afraid she was going to tear up at the sight of her friend standing in the cold with her. But that was what friends did, wasn’t it? _Not that I would know_.

“You want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not.”

She found a driver who was only five minutes away, and they stood there in silence.

When a car stopped on the driveway, Margaery took her hand and held it tight.

“You can call me anytime.”  
“I know-”  
“And you text me when you get home.”

“Yes”

She didn’t let go right away, and Sansa didn’t try to free herself: she was already feeling guilty enough for leaving like that.

Eventually, Margaery kissed her on the cheek and turned back to her house without saying another word.

\- - -

‘ _Home. Sorry for before.’_

‘ **don’t be, we’ll talk later. Happy new year xx’**

She locked the door and finally dropped on the couch: she was safe. Paul had no way of knowing where she lived, he didn’t even know she was in the area. He only knew she was friends with Margery, but that wasn’t much to go on, was it?

“Fuck!” She screamed into the pillow on the couch: at this point the drop of adrenaline was catching up to her as she didn’t need to be alert anymore. She stayed there, shaking, too overwhelmed to do something.

It was a close call, but _everything is still okay_.

Of course, her neighbor heard her.

“Rough night?” She didn’t trust her voice yet, but a small laugh escaped her lips nonetheless.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

“I really don’t.”

“Okay, okay, fair. It’s just, it’s the last 10 minutes of the year. If you want company, we could be miserable together. Like we were on Christmas.”

She sat up: it was almost scary how much talking to this man actually comforted her.

“I’d like that.”

“Great. So let’s get a drink, shall we?”

“I don’t have anything in the house.”

“Ah, that’s the first thing you’ll have to change for the next year. See, I like to be prepared, so I bought Champagne for the occasion.”

“Fancy.”

“I would offer you a glass, if I could.”  
“Thank you, but I’m already very tipsy.”

He hummed, and she heard him walking away, probably toward the kitchen.

“How would you rank this year?” His voice was a bit farther than usual.

“You know what? Now that I think about it, it doesn’t even make the top three of my worst.”

“Well, there’s always the next one to make up for it.”

“Aw, thank you.”

He was next to her again and she heard him sip his drink. “It’s not midnight yet.” He ignored her, and there was complete silence for a few more seconds.

“You know what? It might not be my worst year, but it definitely makes it to my top five.”

Not sure why, but suddenly she became hyper aware of the fact that she literally knew nothing about this man’s life.

“What happened?”

“Just, the girl I thought I was going to marry dumped me, and a couple of months later I found her at my dad’s arm at Christmas, announcing their engagement. You know, the usual”

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“Turns out she figured my dad has more money than me, and he’s closest to check out of this world. So two birds with one stone, I guess. I’m surprised it took her this long.”

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“I wish”

“But this stuff… it’s not supposed to happen in real life. Maybe on a bad soap opera.”

She knew that wasn’t true, she had to deal with her fair share of shitty people, more than what a regular person meets in their whole life. She had always took for granted, though, that if one day she managed to be completely free of her past, then things would only get better in the future.

But to find out that _other_ shitty people existed besides her personal demons, there was no guarantee she wasn’t going to meet new villains.

Anyway, it was not the most sensitive thing to say to the man.

“Oh trust me, the more money is involved, the more real life drama you get.”

And yes, she knew that too, she just didn’t expect someone who lived on the same street as her to have _that_ kind of money. She was just about to apologize when from outside the loud noise of people cheering reminded them what they weren’t celebrating: she checked her phone and yes, it was midnight.

“Happy new year, my lord” she said instead, hoping she hadn’t upset him.

“Happy new year, my lady.”

They stayed like that, listening to the noise of the city gradually coming down. It was peaceful, for a small while, until she remembered what they were talking about.

“You didn’t lose much, for the record.”

“What?”

“This girl. If she was after your money, you’re better off without her.”

She expected him to either agree, tell her to sod off or both; she was not anticipating a laugh.

A bitter laugh, as much as she felt confident recognizing tone, but still a laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know you are. I just never had the pleasure to talk to someone who has never seen me, so you caught me by surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My lady, I’m… _ugly_. Objectively speaking. It’s not my nose or my face or something superficial like that, it’s something that actually makes me repulsive.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is, trust me. So I accepted at a young age that any girl who was ever going to date me, she was going to do it for the money. My family is like, _rich_ , if that wasn’t clear. And I was right, it’s always been about the money. I knew it, these girls knew that I knew it, and yet I somehow tried to make it work.”

He paused for another long sip of his drink and Sansa, on her part, was speechless: she could not imagine someone being so ugly that they completely gave up on themselves.

“So when I started dating... this girl, I knew it was not different: but as time passed, I started to actually fall for her, I started to hope she at least _cared_ about me. So of course, she had to be the worst of them”

She wanted to tell him that she understood, she knew what it meant to be fooled, to trust the wrong person, but she was afraid she wasn’t going to be able to refrain from sharing her own story.

“I’m sorry. But I stand my ground, she wasn’t good for you to begin with, if it had always been a matter of money.”

“I can’t ask for more than that.”

“Bullshit. Also there’s no such thing as ‘objectively repulsive’.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When you get to know people, you completely change your mind: if the attractive guy turns out to be an asshole, you’re going to be repulsed by him every time you see him. Instead, when the quiet girl buys you coffee before class because you forgot your wallet, you realize her smile is actually pleasant to look at. And you’re never going to think about her as anything less than ‘pretty’, even if you’ll never get the chance to talk to her again”

“… _that’s_ bullshit.”

“It’s not!”

“Well, I assure you, that has never happened in my world.”

“Maybe it’s your world that sucks. No offense.”

“Ah, maybe you’re right.”

If his tone had been a bit harsher throughout the conversation, she was pretty sure he was smiling now: there was something about his voice whenever he smiled, something that made her feel warm.

“Still, you don’t know what I look like.” He added as an afterthought.

“I know that you’re kind enough to check on me, so even if you told me what you looked like, I wouldn’t be able to picture you ugly.”

“I… thank you, my lady. I appreciate the thought.”

“I think I should be thanking you, for distracting me.”

“Oh, no worries. My door, or wall, is always open for you.”

It wasn’t easy to fall asleep that night, not with the fear that Paul was going to somehow send Ramsay right at her door, but the idea that she had now someone she could consider a friend on her side helped her in the process.

**Author's Note:**

> I have big ideas for this story, I hope I'll be able to write everything (unfortunately, I won't have a regular update schedule).  
> This story will get darker as Sansa shares her past with her new friend, and I promise to fix the tags as soon as I can.  
> Any kind of feedback means the world to me, and thank you so much for reading.
> 
> PS: english is not my first language so please forgive me and correct me if you want.


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